


The Trial of the Roads

by alwaysyourqueen



Series: Witchers and Dæmons [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemon Separation, Daemons, Gen, Witcher Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysyourqueen/pseuds/alwaysyourqueen
Summary: A Witcher is put through many trials to prepare them to be able to fight monsters. The most difficult for many is the Trial of the Roads, where a witcher must be separate from a part of their soul. Their dæmons must journey away from their bodies and they must sit until the pain passes. Geralt of Rivia must undertake this trial to find his destiny.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Vesemir
Series: Witchers and Dæmons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979242
Kudos: 20





	The Trial of the Roads

**Author's Note:**

> See the ending notes for guides on dæmons and their forms from this work.

Geralt held Gwynbleidd to his chest, terror and biting winter cold ripping through his bones. The chill of the winter had harassed all the Kaer Morhen students for weeks, but it felt particularly harsh at that moment. She was in one of her favorite forms, a small white cat easy to cradle against his chest. His mind raced with the thoughts of the upcoming challenge, the trial which all witchers dreaded. Up until this point, his dæmon had been a source of infinite comfort, but now he was going to have to learn to be apart from her.

_ I won’t leave you _ . Gwyn thought in their shared mind as she nuzzled into his chest.  _ We can still talk, no matter how far I go. _

_ This may be the last time we feel like one unit. I don’t want to Separate from you. _ Geralt’s thoughts were threaded with apprehension.

He tried to picture in his mind what it felt like to be connected with Gwyn, something that was usually simply natural. He felt the way his vision could extend into hers, how he could feel the muscles of his arms through her body. The beating of their hearts in time, and the warmth that was shared between them as he held her.

_ Not even Separating can break us, _ Gwyn thought with only somewhat forced determination.

This introspection was interrupted by the voice of his teacher. Vesemir came up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, careful to not touch Gwyn, and gave him a supportive shoulder squeeze. “Are you ready to begin, Geralt?”

The answer was no, he would never be ready for this. But regardless, he opened his arms to let Gwyn jump from her place against his chest. She hit the ground with a  _ thump _ , the frozen earth slightly stinging as she adjusted to not being cuddled and sheltered from the wind. She changed to the form of a wolf, fur stark white and looking almost like a breathing pile of snow. Gwamelynne, in the form of a massive wolf who managed to dwarf Gwyn in size, moved to Gwyn’s side, using her nose to groom some of Gwyn’s fur.

Geralt took a deep breath, and he turned towards Vesemir. “We’re ready.”

Vesemir guided Geralt to a place to sit upon the ground. He folded his legs and sat as comfortably as he could manage while the cold pressed in on him. He shut his eyes for a few moments, then opened them again to look at the dæmons across from him. The two of them looked almost like mother and daughter, with Gwyn’s fur a bright white and Gwame a slightly tanned but still light color. His eyes moved back to Vesemir.

“I will stay for the first stage of distancing.” If this was atypical at all, Vesemir managed to not show it on his face. Gwame picked up where he left off. “Gwynbleidd, stand opposite Geralt and then begin to move backwards. I found it easier when still seeing that Vesemir was there, at least at first.”

Gwyn nodded and moved to sit on the ground as close to Geralt as she could. She stayed on her feet, and Geralt could feel that she was shaking. He was trying his best not to, but the combination was making it difficult.

Vesemir and Gwame moved away from the young witcher, giving him and his dæmon a wide berth as they began to focus.

Geralt took a deep breath. Gwynbleidd began to take steps backwards until she reached the edge of their bond. She began to take another step, and Geralt felt his breathing get harder. Another step. He had to brace his hand against the ground, feeling the strain on his mind as their bond stretched.

This bit-by-bit progression continued for a couple minutes, then they had to stop. Geralt was pushing himself off the ground, trying to keep his breathing level. The strain was getting painful, and Geralt tried to fight it off. Still, he managed to keep himself under control.

After several minutes of the pain, the two of them looked at one another.

_ I’ve never been this far away from you. _

The energy needed to reply had fled him, and he dry-heaved over the ground. The instinct to go to Gwyn was almost strong enough to get him off the ground. It was a basic survival instinct, but there was a difference to it than times when they’d strayed when younger.

Hours passed in this way. They would stretch their bond, then have to recover from the pain of being far from one another. It was starting to get dark by the time Geralt cried out.

_ We need to stop. I need to rest. _

Without words, Gwyn echoed agreement in her mind. The two of them each slumped to the frozen ground in their own spots.

_ I’m glad you said it first. I could barely move. _

_ Are you okay? _

_ No. _

The question was redundant because Geralt could feel in his bones that neither of them was okay. Frankly, it was hard to believe that either of them would ever be okay. It was only thanks to the concoction of alchemical material that had permanently changed their bodies that they were managing to stay apart for this long. Geralt’s entire body felt as if it pulsed with energy, his skin no barrier to the pain the world inflicted on him.

Geralt was roused from his stupor by footsteps behind him. He turned, and saw Vesemir walking to approach him again. It was only in that moment he realized that he had not noticed when Vesemir left. He’d been so engrossed in the trial that he’d forgotten to be aware of the world around him. He would need to get better at that.

“I brought you something to eat.” Vesemir sat down beside Geralt and set down a small basket of food. He also draped a blanket across the young witcher’s back, which caused Geralt to almost feel as though he was melting with the newfound comfort. Focusing on the pain of slowly separating from Gwyn had left him widely ignoring the world around him.

“Thank you,” he finally replied, pushing himself back up to a sitting position. He reached for the food and began to eat first a piece of bread treated with herbs. His hands separated the other items and found a bottle. “What’s this?”

“Fire elemental decoction. Should keep you warm through the night. Enough in there for two doses.” Vesemir folded his legs to sit down beside his student.

Had it been any other time, Geralt might have made a crack about Vesemir’s weight on the ground beside him. At the moment, he was trying to focus his aching body on eating. “So it’s true that we don’t return to the keep until the end of the trial.”

“As with all the others, Geralt.” Vesemir relaxed himself into a position far too calm for a witcher. “You may not believe me, but it is easier to steel yourself against the pain when you are numbed to the elements.”

_ Gwame is here with me. _

Geralt felt the comfort of the connection Gwyn had as Gwame came to her side. The two wolves sat, with Gwame’s head above Gwyn’s and shielding one another from the cold.

_ I didn’t realize how hungry I was. _

_ I could have told you that much. You barely ate at breakfast. _

“How long did the trial take for you?” Geralt filled his mouth with the soft bread, the aroma of the herbs helping to ground him as he did.

Vesemir let out a shrill whistle, leaning back and looking up at the darkening sky. “It was five and a half days. Gwame and I actually broke the rules, and she came back to my side after dark the first two. It made the following days much harder. Harder to stretch a bond if you don’t keep it stretched out. Still, we managed it in the end.” He turned his sharp, yellow gaze directly on Geralt, rather than wandering as it had. “It will save your life one day, to let Gwyn be far from you. Don’t forget it.”

Geralt didn’t feel much like a witcher in that moment. In fact, he felt rather like a little boy with a great big hole in his chest who wanted to cry. He could not cry in front of his teacher while performing a sacred trial, but he could think about it. Even the mental gesturing he and Gwynbleidd usually did felt so distant and difficult that he would need to form words in his mind to communicate what he needed.

“Riveting conversation, Geralt. Keep at it.” Vesemir reached over and patted Geralt on the shoulder, standing up again and stretching before turning back towards Kaer Morhen. “Try not to take too long, or Eskel will never let you live it down.”

Geralt regretted not saying more to Vesemir when he was there, and he regretted not getting the chance for more contact. His body was not prepared for the lack of comfort that came with his dæmon not being by his side. He was even less prepared for how it felt when he got some level of contact back, only for it to be ripped away in a single moment.

The isolation pressed in on him again as Vesemir left. He relished his witcher’s hearing, as it allowed him to hear the quiet crunch on snow for longer than any human would be capable of. Regardless, he was left in the quiet again. He pulled the blanket Vesemir had given him more tightly around his shoulders and ate as much food as he could stomach.

Next came the decoction. He held the bottle up to the light of the moon, his eyes narrowing in to see its contents. It was filled with a transparent red fluid, glowing slightly in the moonlight. As he swirled it, the viscosity was that of any witcher potion, thicker than water but still easy enough to drink quickly.

Without giving himself time to question it, he uncovered the top and took in a mouthful of the stuff. He felt as though his throat were being covered by burns, the fire of the potion setting his insides alight. As he resealed the bottle, he felt the warmth spread from his core throughout his body, pressing into his skin until it was like there was an invisible layer covering him. He still felt the cold, but as if through thick walls rather than skin.

It was in this way that Geralt passed the next days, with Gwynbleidd growing farther and farther away from him. It hardly felt real, as he felt alone in a way he never had before. The urge for closeness never left, but it became less debilitating as they grew accustomed to the distance.

Geralt and Gwyn spoke very little over the days, as they preferred comfortable silence. He was waiting for the moment when she’d tell him what they were waiting for.

_ I’m at the gates, _ Gwyn finally thought.  _ Eskel and Annie are already here. I saw Sao’trouve coming in after me. _

Geralt stood up, folding his blanket and collecting the basket of food. Most of it was still left untouched. He found it hard to have an appetite when he felt so empty. He began the trek back to Kaer Morhen.

Part of the strangeness in walking back he hadn’t expected. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on Gwyn’s eyes being close to the ground, instinctively correcting for things he couldn’t see when looking ahead. It was not in human nature to be without a dæmon at one’s side. Then again, a witcher wasn’t human, and a witcher needed to function independent from his dæmon.

He arrived back at the keep, with Gwyn dashing towards him and changing into the comfortable form of a purring cat once again. Geralt felt as if he was breathing for the first time in days. It felt different, though, even as he clutched Gwynbleidd to his chest.

This wasn’t the same connection they had had even just a week ago. He had to truly focus to feel through Gwyn’s senses. Practically, he knew that he would spend the next weeks training to use their bond still, to use the connection when he needed it. It felt wrong. Still, he held Gwyn tightly.

**Author's Note:**

> Gwynbleidd (Gwyn-bley-dd, she/her), or Gwyn, is Geralt's dæmon. She takes on white morphs whenever reasonable, and prefers the forms of a white wolf, white cat, and occasionally a white hawk. She "settles" as a white wolf after this point, but Witcher dæmons traditionally do not settle permanently.  
> Gwamelynne (Gwam-eh-linn, she/her), or Gwame, is Vesemir's dæmon. She also favors a wolf form, leading some to believe she is settled in it. She tends to be in a larger shape than average dæmons even in the same animal form.  
> Speannille (Spay-ah-neal, she/her), or Annie, is Eskel's dæmon. After this point she favors a red wolf form. A red wolf is an uncommon species of wolf that is rarely seen. She prefers predator forms that can do damage but are perhaps unsuspecting.  
> Sao’trouve (S-ow-true-v, she/her), or True, is Gweld's dæmon. Gweld is a close friend of Geralt's during training and is always slightly behind him in training. After this point, True chooses to favor a coyote form.


End file.
